A Shadow in the Glass Episode IV: A Glimmer of Light
by Esther Huffleclaw
Summary: Sixteen years after the events of Episode III: The Fading Light. Lucia Skywalker discovers that her mother was a Jedi Knight, and her destiny is to learn the ways of the Force as well. Little does she know how dark the whole truth is, though, and how much pain—and joy—is in her future.
1. Something Almost Familiar

The twin suns of Tatooine looked down upon a vast expanse of pale sand, broken only by a small pourstone dome circled by moisture vaporators. Lucia Skywalker crouched over one of these, fiddling with the dials. An unusual glimmer of light in the sky caught her eye, and she stood, stretching her back. Pushing her sandy hair out of her eyes, she tried to make out what she had seen.

Another flare of brightness sent her scrabbling in her toolkit for her electrobinoculars. Setting them to her eyes, she adjusted the settings until she could make out the shapes of ships just outside of the atmosphere, tiny at this distance, even with the binocs. Flashes of red and green light exploded between them.

Her chores forgotten, Lucia stuffed the binocs into her kit and ran to her landspeeder, throwing the kit in the back as she jumped over the side to land in the driver's seat. The ancient, oft-repaired engine grumbled, choked, then turned over, and she patted the framework reassuringly. "Good girl. You can do it."

The back end of the speeder slewed around as Lucia spun the steering column and shot off toward Anchorhead, a cloud of dust in her wake.

* * *

The bright sunlight reflected off the white buildings, and Lucia squinted against it as she neared the small settlement. As she entered the streets, she swerved sharply to avoid an old woman who stopped to shake her fist, yelling, "I've told you kids to slow down!"

Lucia ignored her, revelling in the feel of the air rushing past her as she raced through the narrow streets, veering back and forth, weaving her way unerringly to Tosche station. She brought the speeder to a sudden stop outside, skidding sideways in a cloud of dust, and leapt to the ground almost before it had come to a halt.

"Deak! Windy!" she yelled as she ran through the front office, ignoring Fixer's startled grunts—as usual, she had woken the mechanic from his afternoon nap. She felt no remorse, though; he was on duty, and really should be alert.

She burst through the door into the back room, where her friends Deak and Windy bent over a computer game. She came to a sudden stop and her mouth fell open at the sight of a third person in the room. "Biggs!"

The dark-haired young man turned from watching the game, and a grin spread across his chiseled face. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, laughing.

"I didn't know you were back." She pulled back, and jokingly slapped his shoulder, trying to ignore how the cut of the expensive tunic showed off his toned physique. The Academy hadn't changed him much. "When did you get in?"

"Just now." He stepped back, tugged on the hem of his bright blue tunic, and smoothed his dark moustache. "I wanted to surprise you, hotshot.I thought you'd be here." He waved a hand at Deak and Windy, who were still engrossed in their game.

She shook her head, tearing her eyes away from his mouth only to catch herself staring at his black hair where it fell over his forehead. Her fingers itched to brush it back, and she curled them into her palms. "You're back so soon. Didn't you get your commission?"

He threw his shoulders back and stood even straighter. "Of course I got it. Signed aboard the Rand Ecliptic last week. First mate Biggs Darklighter at your service." He snapped his hand to his brow in a quick salute, his brown eyes sparkling. "I just came to say goodbye to all you unfortunate landlocked simpletons."

She laughed. "Only landlocked for now. I'll be joining you soon enough. Oh! I almost forgot—there's a battle going on right now, right here in our system. Come look!"

Biggs followed Lucia out into the street, squinting up into the sky. Fixer joined them, still grumpy from being wakened so suddenly. She leaned over the side of her speeder, and dug the binocs out of her kit, then trained them on the sky. "There!" She pointed.

Biggs tooks the binocs and peered through them. "That's no battle, Skygirl. They're just sitting there. Probably refuelling or something."

She frowned, disappointed. "There was a lot of firing earlier…"

"I keep telling you," Fixer interjected gruffly, "the Rebellion is a long way from here. I doubt if the Empire would even fight to keep this system. This planet is a big hunk of nothing."

She nodded slowly, still staring at the sky. She had been so sure of what she had seen before. With a sigh, she followed the others back inside.

* * *

Senator Alaric Organa tightened his jaw, staring straight ahead as he walked, refusing to show fear. He ignored the shackles on his wrists, ignored the squad of white-armoured stormtroopers that surrounded him, his eyes fastened on the black-cloaked and hooded figure who awaited them.

The troopers stopped, and Alaric straightened his back, glaring into the shadows inside the deep hood, searching in vain for the Sith Lord's features. He was usually good at reading people, but it was easier with visual cues. "Vader. I should have known. Only you could be so bold. The Imperial Senate will not sit for this. When they hear you've attacked a diplomatic—"

"Don't play games with me, Your Highness." The voice from within the shadows was cold, yet smooth, and there was something almost familiar about it. "You weren't on any mercy mission this time. You passed directly through a restricted system. Several transmissions were beamed to this ship by Rebel spies. I want to know what happened to the plans they sent you."

Alaric gritted his teeth. He hated being called 'Your Highness.' While he had inherited the title of 'Prince,' he had earned the title of 'Senator'—at sixteen, he was the youngest member of the Imperial Senate in years—and that meant much more to him. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, struggling to keep his voice even. How did they know about the plans? This was supposed to be an easy mission—his first for the Alliance. "I'm a member of the Imperial Senate on a diplomatic mission to Alderaan."

"You're a part of a the Rebel Alliance." Vader's voice had gained some heat; anger coloured the words. "You're a traitor." A black-gloved hand gestured to the stormtroopers. "Take him away!"

* * *

Lucia leaned against the wall, watching Deak and Windy, who were still engrossed in their game. Biggs handed her an icy bottle of malt brew and gestured for her to continue the story she had been telling him when he went to get the drinks.

She grinned a thanks, saluting him with the glass bottle. "So I cut off my power, shut down the afterburners and came in low on Deak's trail. I was so close I thought I was going to fry my instruments. As it was I busted up the Skyhopper pretty bad. Uncle Owen was pretty upset. He grounded me for the rest of the season. You should have been there… it was fantastic."

He shook his head and snagged a chair, throwing a leg over it to sit backwards. Resting his bottle on the back of the chair, he said, "You may be the hottest bushpilot this side of Mos Eisley, Lucia, but those little Skyhoppers are dangerous. Keep it up, and one day, whammo!" He rapped the bottle against the chair. "You're going to be nothing more than a dark spot on the down side of a canyon wall."

She laughed. "Look who's talking. You're starting to sound like my uncle. You've gotten soft."

"Not a chance." His grin widened. "I can still fly circles around you."

She dropped her eyes to the bottle in her hands, watching her fingers as she picked at the edge of the label. "It hasn't been the same since you left, Biggs. It's been so.. quiet."

He glanced over his shoulder at the other two; they were still engrossed in their game. Leaning forward, he gestured for Lucia to come closer. She leaned toward him, intrigued. Pitching his voice low enough that only she could hear, he said, "I didn't come back just to say goodbye. I shouldn't tell you this, but you're the only one I can trust… and if I don't come back, I want somebody to know."

She stared into his brown eyes, a little scared. "What are you talking about?"

He leaned in even closer. "I made some friends at the Academy, and when our frigate goes to one of the central systems, we're going to jump ship and join the Alliance."

Her mouth fell open. "Join the _Rebellion_? Are you kidding?"

He waved his hand at her, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Deaks and Windy hadn't heard anything. "Shhh! Keep your voice down!" he hissed.

"I'm sorry." She made an effort to lower her voice. "But you're crazy, Biggs."

He sighed and tapped his bottle against the back of his chair thoughtfully. "Maybe, but I want to be on the right side—the side I believe in."

Yeah. The Empire hadn't made many friends out here. She leaned back against the wall. "I wish I was going with you."

"You're off to the Academy next term, though?"

She nodded. "Uncle Owen needs me for one more season, then I'm out of here."

He stood up. "I'm leaving in the morning, so I won't see you before I go."

She smiled at him, hoping her disappointment didn't show. "I might end up in the Alliance too."

"I'll keep a lookout." He saluted her with his empty bottle, then tossed it into a recycler. "So long, Skygirl."

She stood at the window for a long time, watching him walk out of sight, then staring into the sky, until Deaks looked up from the game and asked, "Where's Biggs?"

Laughing so she wouldn't cry, she cuffed him across the back of his head. "You idiot."


	2. My Only Hope

Lucia stopped in her tracks as she glanced out the kitchen window, spotting a huge sandcrawler coming to halt near the house. "Jawas, Uncle Owen!" she called.

"Coming!" his gruff voice replied. "Let's hope they have some useful droids this time."

Aunt Beru turned from where she was preparing dinner at the counter. "Lucia, tell your uncle that if he gets a translator to be sure it speaks Bocce."

Snagging a desert plum on her way out the door, Lucia said over her shoulder, "It looks like we don't have much of a choice, but I'll remind him."

The Jawas were busily lining up the droids they had for sale and chattering in their high-pitched tongue as Lucia came up out of the house into the sunlight. She watched the activity, eating her filched fruit, until Owen appeared.

One of the Jawas pushed a tall golden droid forward, chattering excitedly. The small creature probably thought he could get a better price because of how new and clean this one appeared. Lucia grinned. Appearances meant little out here.

Owen waved a hand impatiently. "I have no need for a protocol droid."

"Oh, no, sir," the golden droid replied, his proper accent strange to Lucia's ears. "Not in an environment such as this. That's why I have been programmed for over thirty secondary functions that—"

"What I really need," Owen cut him off, "is a droid that understands the binary language of moisture vaporators."

"Vaporators!" The droid sounded positively delighted. "My first job was programming a binary load lifter—very similar to a vaporator. You could say—"

"Do you speak Bocce?" Owen asked curtly. She wouldn't have to remind him after all.

"Of course, sir." The droid was not at all offended at being interrupted repeatedly. "Why I'm as fluent in Bocce as—"

"All right, shut up!" Owen gestured at the nearest Jawa. "I'll take this one."

"Shutting up, sir," the droid said cheerfully. Lucia swallowed a snicker, trying not to choke on her fruit.

Owen pointed at a small red astromech droid. "And that one. Lucia, take these two over to the garage, will you? I want both of them cleaned up before dinner."

"But…" Lucia could see her afternoon vanish before her very eyes with how dirty the little R2 unit was. "I was going to go to Tosche station to pick up some power converters—"

"You can waste time with your friends when your chores are done," Owen said. It wasn't quite so amusing when she was the one he interrupted. "Now come on, get to it!"

Heaving a sigh at her lost afternoon, Lucia waved at the droids. "All right, come on!"

The two droids began to follow her, but then the astromech suddenly jerked to a stop, emitting a high-pitched whistle. Lucia turned around and glared at it. "Come on, Red!"

It didn't move. With another sigh, she took a step toward it, but stopped in her tracks when a metal plate popped off the top of the droid, spinning through the air trailing sparks to land in the sand with a thump. "Uncle Owen," she said. "This one's got a bad motivator."

Owen turned away from his heated bartering and squinted at the broken droid. "Hey!" He turned on the Jawa. "What are you trying to push on us?"

Lucia nearly jumped out of her skin when someone tapped her on the shoulder. Usually no-one could sneak up on her. She turned to look into the huge golden eyes of the protocol droid. "Excuse me," he said. "That R2 unit is in prime condition." He pointed at a blue astromech that had just rolled out from behind a larger droid. It did look much better off than the red one. Cleaner, too.

"Uncle Owen, what about that one?" Lucia indicated the blue droid.

Owen nodded. "We'll take that one," he told the Jawa, pointing at the blue R2 unit.

"I'm quite sure you'll be very pleased with that one," the protocol droid declared. "He really is in first-class condition. I've worked with him before."

Lucia led the droids to the garage, shaking her head. "You really like the sound of your own voice, don't you?" she asked the golden droid.

He stared at her. "I don't understand."

"Never mind." She ducked into the shade of the garage. "Let's get to work."

"Of course, miss."

"Uh, you can call me Lucia." Miss? She snorted softly. How her friends would laugh at that!

"Of course, Miss Lucia."

She choked. That was even worse. "Just Lucia. Please."

He tilted his head forward in a stiff approximation of a bow. "I am See Threepio, human-cyborg relations, and this is my counterpart, Artoo Detoo."

She couldn't help smiling at his proper manner. "Nice to meet you." Digging through the tools on the workbench, she found a chrome pick and, crouching beside R2-D2, she began to scrape the build-up off of his connections. "You've got a lot of carbon scoring here. It looks like you've seen some action."

"With all we've been through, sometimes I'm amazed we're in as good condition as we are," C-3PO said. "What with the Rebellion and all."

Her mouth fell open. "The Rebellion?"

"That's how we came to be in your service."

She sat up straighter, the cleaning forgotten. "Have you been in many battles?"

"Several, I think. Actually, there's not much to tell. I'm not much more than an interpreter, and not very good at telling stories. Well, not at making them interesting, anyway."

Disappointed, she went back to cleaning the astromech. As she worked her way down his domed head, she discovered a small piece of metal stuck in the neck joint. Placing her other palm flat against him for leverage, she dug in with the pick, struggling to free the shard. "Well, my little friend, you've got something jammed in here real good. Were you on a cruiser or—"

It came free suddenly, sending her crashing into a pile of speeder parts. Looking up from her undignified sprawl, she gaped as a hologram sprang to life projected from Artoo's dome. The signal was distorted, but it looked like a young man about her age wearing clothes even finer than those Biggs had sported. A voice crackled into the garage: "Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope."

Lucia slowly sat up, staring. Did he say 'Kenobi'? The image flickered, and then steadied. "Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi," he said again. "You're my only hope." She scrambled out of the mess of speeder parts and knelt by the droid. He did say 'Kenobi.' Could it be—? "Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi," the young man repeated. "You're my only hope."

"What's this? Who is he?" She turned toward Threepio. "It's on a loop. Is there more to this recording?"

A string of beeps and whistles sounded from Artoo. Threepio stared at him. "He says it's only an old recording, miss. Pay it no mind."

"But—" Lucia stared at the hologram. Something niggled at the back of her mind, telling her this was important. "Who is he?"

"I think he was a passenger on our last voyage," Threepio offered. "A person of some importance, I believe."

"Let me try…" Lucia reached for Artoo, but he quickly moved away, whistling loudly.

"I am sorry, miss," Threepio sputtered. "He says he's the property of Obi-Wan Kenobi, a resident of these parts, and it's a private message for him. Quite frankly, I don't know what he's talking about..."

Lucia stopped listening as the golden droid continued to chatter about Artoo's shortcomings and sat back on her heels, her mind awhirl. She hadn't seen old Ben Kenobi in years now, but there was a time when he had been a frequent, yet sporadic, visitor at the moisture farm. She couldn't remember why he had stopped coming—something about an argument with her uncle? In any case, "Could he mean Ben Kenobi?"

The golden droid stopped talking in mid-sentence. "I beg your pardon, miss. Do you know what he's talking about?"

She shook her head. "I'm not sure, but the only Kenobi I know around here is old Ben. He lives out beyond the Dune Sea." It had been like having second uncle back when Ben used to visit. Why had he stopped coming? Could someone really hold a grudge for so long?

Artoo made another series of beeps and whistles, and Threepio said, "He says the restraining bolt has short circuited his recording system. He suggests that if you remove the bolt, he might be able to play back the entire recording."

"Oh." Lucia nodded, staring at the hologram. The repeating message was almost hypnotic. She shook her head. "Okay." There really wasn't anywhere the little droid could go out here in the middle of the desert. She removed the restraining bolt, and the hologram disappeared. The silence was deafening. "Hey, what happened? Where did he go? Play back the message!"

Artoo's head swivelled around and his whistle somehow managed to rude. "'What message'?" Threepio's voice was indignant. "The one you're carrying inside your rusty innards!"

"Lucia!" Beru called from the kitchen. "Dinner!"

Lucia stood up, shaking her head. The feeling that the message was important wouldn't go away—if anything, it had gotten stronger. And there was something about the young man in the hologram… something almost… familiar.

"Lucia!" Beru called again.

"I'll be right there, Aunt Beru!" Lucia bit her lip, staring at Artoo. "See what you can do with him, Threepio." Tossing the pick on the workbench, she hurried to wash up for dinner.


	3. Into Darkness

Lucia fell into a chair at the table, reaching for the nearest serving dish. Aunt Beru's cooking smelled amazing… but then, it always did. As she piled up her plate, Lucia commented, "You know, I think that R2 unit might have been stolen."

Owen frowned at her across the table. "What makes you think that?"

She grabbed another dish. "I stumbled across a recording while I was cleaning him. He says he belongs to someone called Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Owen's eyes widened, and he almost stopped breathing for a minute. Watching him surreptitiously while continuing to pile food on her plate, Lucia chewed on the inside of her cheek. That reaction was very interesting.

Lifting a spoonful to her lips, she said casually, "I thought he might have meant old Ben. Or maybe a relative. Do you think so?"

"No!" Owen glared at her, and she stared in fascination as a red flush spread over his face. What could they have argued about that her uncle would still be angry after so many years? "Take it into Anchorhead tomorrow morning and have its memory flushed. That'll be the end of it."

Lucia chewed and swallowed thoughtfully. "What if this 'Obi Wan' comes looking for him?"

"He won't." Owen poured himself a glass of Bantha milk, his hand shaking slightly. "He died around the same time as your parents did."

Lucia froze, her mouth open, a spoonful hanging midway from her plate. Her uncle never talked about her parents; Beru had once told her they had died in the Clone Wars, but had refused to say more. She tried to keep her voice level. "My parents? Did he know them?"

"I told you to forget it." Owen's fist clenched around his glass. " Your only concern is to prepare the new droids for tomorrow. Tomorrow afternoon, I want them on the south ridge working out those condensers."

She nodded, finally bringing her spoon to her mouth. It was probably a good time to change the subject. "So," she said, chasing a bit of vegetable around her plate with her spoon, "I was thinking about our agreement about me staying on another season and, if these new droids work out, I want to transmit my application to the Academy this year."

Owen glared at her, and his voice was a growl. "You mean the next semester before harvest?"

She dropped her eyes to her plate. "Well, yeah. There are more than enough droids now."

He sighed. "Harvest is when I need you the most. Only one more season. This year we'll make enough on the harvest so I'll be able to hire some more hands, and then you can go to the Academy next year."

"That's what you had said last year." She stood up, pushing her half-eaten dinner aside. He was never going to let her go.

"Where are you going?" Beru asked, frowning at the unfinished food.

Lucia shrugged. "It looks like I'm going nowhere. I have to finish cleaning those droids."

* * *

The garage was quiet, the new droids nowhere in sight. Frowning, Lucia stopped in the middle of the room. "Artoo! Threepio!"

A shiny golden head appeared from behind the speeder. "It wasn't my fault, miss," Threepio babbled, stumbling toward her. "Please don't deactivate me. I told him not to go, but he's faulty, malfunctioning; kept babbling on about his mission."

Her mouth fell open. "Oh, no!" Grabbing her electrobinoculars, she ran outside to scan the desert. The astromech was nowhere in sight. "How could I be so stupid?" she berated herself.

"Pardon me, miss." Threepio had followed her out of the garage. "Couldn't we go after him?"

She shook her head, slapping the binocs against her leg. "It's too dangerous at night. We'll have to wait until morning. Blast it! Why did I remove the restraining bolt?"

* * *

Alaric stared at the wall, his fists clenched on his knees as he sat on the hard pallet in his cell. To be captured, and by Darth Vader, was troubling. The Emperor was growing bolder. This did not bode well for the Senate, let alone for the Alliance.

If only he could get a message to his father on Alderaan, to warn him that the Emperor was sniffing around. Knowing the Imperials, they wouldn't even let Bail know that his son had been arrested. They would probably guess that Bail was involved in the Rebellion as well. Alaric had put his whole family in danger.

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. His only hope was that Artoo had found Obi Wan Kenobi.

* * *

As the suns rose over the distant horizon, Lucia was already far from home, her landspeeder flying across the vast wasteland. Beside her, Threepio's golden skin reflected the light as he turned his head, searching the dunes for sight of the little blue droid. She frowned. She hadn't been out here, this close to old Ben's home, in years. Even when he had visited them, it was usually at their house, not his. Maybe she should stop in to see him while she was out here; maybe he would tell her what he and her uncle had argued about that had kept him away for so long.

They had followed the little droid's tracks at first, but then they had lost his trail; the constant wind had erased all signs long ago, and now they were simply following the direction in which the last tracks had indicated he was traveling. It had been quite some time since they had seen any trace of him, though. "I don't see how he could have come this far," she said. "We must have missed him. Uncle Owen isn't going to take this very well."

Threepio turned toward her. "Would it help if you told him it was my fault?"

"Maybe. He'd probably only deactivate you for a day or two…" Her voice trailed off as she spotted something odd on the scanner.

"Deactivate!" Threepio's voice nearly squeaked. "On the other hand, if _you _hadn't removed his restraining bolt—"

"There's something dead ahead." She hit the accelerator. "It looks like him."

* * *

It was Artoo, all right. The little droid ignored the speeder as Lucia brought it to a stop next to him; he continued to stubbornly roll across the sand toward Ben Kenobi's home. Lucia leapt over the side of the speeder, and Threepio followed her more stiffly.

"Just where do you think you're going?" she demanded, standing in front of Artoo and blocking his forward progress.

He whistled something that sounded wistful, and Threepio replied, "Miss Lucia here is your rightful owner. We'll have no more of this Obi-Wan Kenobi gibberish…and don't talk to me about your mission, either. You're fortunate she doesn't blast you into a million pieces right here."

Sighing, Lucia knelt in the sand and peered at Artoo. "I wish I knew what was going on in that brain of yours."

His dome swivelled around, and he exploded in a rush of beeps and whistles, rocking back and forth on his treads in a frenzy. Lucia fell back, shocked. "What—?"

"Oh my!" Threepio sounded almost as agitated as Artoo did. "He says there are several creatures approaching from the southeast!"

"Sandpeople!" Lucia ran to the speeder, and grabbed her binocs and blaster rifle. "Or worse."

She scrambled up a rocky ridge on her hands and knees, lying down at the top to peer over the edge toward the southeast. Pressing the binocs to her eyes, she scanned the expanse of sand, and spotted two banthas. At first the huge creatures looked like they might be alone, but then a Tusken appeared from behind one of them. "It's Sandpeople all right," she muttered. They didn't look like they were heading this way, but something twisted in her gut, telling her to run, to get away.

Before she could move, however, a dark mass blocked her view. Dropping the binocs, she looked up into the masked face of a Tusken Raider, his double-pointed gaderffii stick raised to strike. Rolling out of the way, she brought the barrel of her rifle up just in time to block a second blow. The blade easily sheared through her weapon, slicing it in two.

She scrambled back, stopping as her heels reached the edge of the ridge. She glanced behind her at the drop into the canyon far below, and her heart nearly stopped. The Tusken brought the back end of his weapon around, striking her in the head, and she fell forward into darkness.


	4. Casting Shadows

Awareness slowly returned and, with it, a deep ache in her skull. Lucia was lying flat on her back in the sand; she groaned and opened her eyes, squinting into the light. A hooded figure bent over her, silhouetted against the suns. As she lifted her head, trying to make out the face inside the hood, a spike of pain shot through her temples.

"Rest easy there," a deep, gentle voice said. "You're fortunate you're still in one piece."

No matter the years that had passed, she knew that voice. "Ben!" she gasped. "Am I glad to see you!"

He smiled, pushing his dark brown hood back. The desert breezes played with his greying hair and sand-coloured robes. "Tell me, young Lucia, what brings you this far out into the Jundland wastes?"

She struggled to sit up, and he caught her arm, steadying her as she waited for her head to stop spinning. Meeting his kind, grey-blue eyes, she wondered yet again what could have caused her uncle to stay angry at this man for so long. Or even to be angry at him in the first place.

She gestured toward Artoo. "This droid. I think he's searching for a former master. I've never seen such devotion in a droid." She shook her head—a mistake since the desert spun around her again. Closing her eyes, she clung to Ben's arm until the urge to vomit had passed. "He claims to be the property of an Obi Wan Kenobi." She opened her eyes to see Ben's reaction. "Is that a relative of yours?"

Something flickered in his eyes, and Ben turned away to gaze across the desert. "Obi Wan? Now that's a name I haven't heard in a long time."

He did recognize the name! Determined to get some answers, she continued, "My uncle says he's dead."

Ben turned back, a tiny smile curving the corner of his mouth. His eyes seemed to look right through her. "Oh, he's not dead… not yet."

Somehow, she _knew_. "He's you, isn't he?"

His smile widened, and there was something like pride in the way he looked at her now. "I haven't gone by the name Obi Wan since around the time you were born." He raised his head as if hearing something on the wind. "I think we better get indoors. The Sandpeople are easily startled but they will soon be back and in greater numbers."

* * *

Ben's house—hut, really—was cluttered and small, yet comfortable and homey. Sitting on a stool covered with furs, Lucia fiddled with Threepio's arm—he had fallen and damaged it when the Tuskens attacked. She watched Ben out of the corner of her eye as she worked; he was staring at the floor, seeming lost in thought.

There had always been an air of mystery around old Ben Kenobi, but she had been too young to really wonder about him before. He had just been there, a part of her life, like the sand dunes and the winds. Now, it was all she could do not to rapid-fire questions. Why had he changed his name? He must be in hiding, but from what? Something clicked into place in her head, and she sat up straighter, turning to face him fully. "Were you a Jedi?" she blurted.

He raised his head and nodded slowly, his eyes searching her face. "Yes, I was once a Jedi Knight... like your mother."

Her mouth fell open, and she completely forgot about Threepio's arm. "You knew my mother? She was a _Jedi_?"

He nodded, and a deep sadness fell over him. "She was the best pilot in the galaxy, and a good friend." He stared at nothing for a long moment, his eyes haunted. Blinking as if against tears, he continued, "And she was a skilled warrior. Which reminds me..." He stood and crouched by a storage chest tucked in the corner of the room. He withdrew a metal cylinder and handed it to Lucia.

She ran her trembling fingers lightly over the ridged grip and paused on the switch, but didn't press it. She had heard of weapons such as this, had seen holos of Jedi wielding them against troopers, but she hadn't dreamed that she would ever see one up close, would ever hold one in her own hands.

"It was your mother's and it was meant to be yours when you came of age, but your uncle wouldn't allow it. He feared you might follow old Obi Wan on some damned-fool crusade and get yourself killed." His tone was tinged with irony.

Her mother's hands had touched this, had wielded it in battle. Lucia's fingers tightened on the cool metal, almost as if she could feel the ghostly fingerprints of her mother's touch.

"A lightsaber is the weapon of a Jedi Knight," Ben was saying. "An elegant weapon for a more civilized time. Not as clumsy or as random as a blaster."

It felt so right in her hand, like an extension of her arm. Taking a deep breath, she pressed the switch. A beam of blue light shot out and formed a flickering blade, casting shadows around the room. Staring into the clean light, she asked, "How did she die? My mother?"

Ben's voice was heavy with grief when he replied. "A young Jedi called Darth Vader, who was a pupil of mine before turning to the dark side, helped the Empire hunt down and destroy the Jedi, including Anneke, your mother."

She raised her eyes. Her mother's name was Anneke. It was a Tatooinian name. Of course, she must have been sister to either Uncle Owen or Aunt Beru; she had probably grown up in the same house Lucia lived in. Perhaps she had flown Beggars Canyon and hunted womp rats before she had joined the Jedi and escaped this backwater planet. But she had been betrayed and killed by another Jedi… Lucia's fist clenched on the lightsaber hilt. "The dark side?"

"Of the Force," he clarified. "The Force is what gives a Jedi power. It binds the galaxy together."

She nodded, turning her gaze back to the blue blade in her hands. "And my father? Was he a Jedi too?"

He shook his head. "Padraig Andelko was a Senator from Naboo. He was assassinated for political reasons. His death nearly destroyed your mother." His voice broke, and she looked up again; he was staring into the distance, his eyes filled with tears. Then he shook his head, and turned toward Artoo, who was waiting patiently beside him. "Now, let's see if we can't figure out what you are, my little friend, and where you come from."

He tweaked something on the droid, and the hologram appeared once again, much clearer this time. Lucia couldn't see what he had done, though it didn't seem to be much. Maybe Artoo simply recognized his old master. She was struck by a strong sense that she should know the dark-haired young man, though she had never seen him before.

Ben's eyes widened as he began to speak in a cultured, yet desperate, voice: "General Kenobi, years ago you served with my father in the Clone Wars. Now he begs you to help him in his struggle against the Empire. I regret that I am unable to present this request to you in person, but my ship has fallen under attack, and I'm afraid my mission to bring you to Alderaan has failed. I have placed information vital to the survival of the Alliance in the memory systems of this R2 unit. My father will know how to retrieve it. You must see this droid safely delivered to him on Alderaan. This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi; you're my only hope."

Lucia stared at the little droid after the message ended. Something urged her to go find the young man in the hologram, to help him. But what could _she _do? Just because her mother had been a Jedi Knight didn't give her some kind of special ability to go save people. Besides, her uncle would never let her go. "Who is he?" she asked.

Ben met her eyes, his gaze thoughtful. "Prince Alaric Organa, Senator of Alderaan." He slapped his hands onto his knees as if coming to a decision. "I need your help, Lucia. I'm getting too old for this sort of thing."

She stared at him. Oh, how she wished she could! "I can't help you. I have work to do. I'm in for it as it is."

He stood, his eyes meeting hers. There was something unnerving about his gaze, as if he could see inside her mind and heart. "I can teach you the ways of the Force, Lucia."

He was offering her everything she had ever wanted, and so much more. She was tempted—oh, so tempted!—to agree, to go with him to Alderaan, and forget about her chores... but her uncle would never let her go. "Look, I can take you as far as Anchorhead," she offered. "You can get a transport there to Mos Eisley or wherever you're going."

He nodded, his eyes filled with disappointment. "You must do what you feel is right, of course."

* * *

Alaric rose to his feet as the cell door opened to admit Vader, who was accompanied by a shiny black droid—and his heart plummeted to the depths of his stomach. He had never personally seen an interrogation droid used, but he had heard of them, had campaigned against their use. Now, face-to-face with one, he found it difficult to breathe.

"Now, Your Highness," Vader said, voice laced with menace, "we will discuss the location of your hidden Rebel base."

* * *

The giant sandcrawler was still, a dark shape against the pale dunes; smoke trailed up from scorchmarks on its sides into the clear sky. Lucia brought the speeder to a halt and stared in horror at the scattered bodies of the Jawas. Ben got out and crouched to examine the carnage, so she followed, reluctantly. She had never been so close to so much death.

"It looks like sandpeople did this," she said, pointing at the Bantha tracks. "It's just… I've never heard of them hitting anything this big before." She tried not to look at the small bodies. She just might throw up.

"They didn't." Ben raised his eyes from the tracks, letting sand filter through his fingers. "But we are meant to think they did. These tracks are side by side. Sandpeople always ride single file to hide their numbers."

Something half buried in the sand near the base of the crawler caught her eye, and she moved closer to get a better look. It was the red droid Owen had almost purchased—or what was left of it. She knelt beside it, brushing the sand away from the rusty red metal. "These are the same Jawas that sold us Artoo and Threepio."

"These blast points, too accurate for Sandpeople," Ben was saying thoughtfully. "Only Imperial stormtroopers are so precise."

She stared at the little droid, her heart beating painfully against her ribs. There was something important here, something she was missing. "Why would Imperial troops want to slaughter Jawas?" Her heart nearly stopped and she stood, turning toward where Artoo and Threepio waited by the speeder. The droids! If the Imperials knew about the message Artoo carried, and they had tracked him this far…

She ran for the speeder, her lungs burning.

"Wait!" Ben's voice rang out after her. "Lucia! It's too dangerous!"

She ignored him, flinging herself into the pilot's seat and flipping on the ignition. Gunning the engine, she shot off toward her home.


	5. Mystical Powers

The smoke was visible from a long way off, and Lucia had a very bad feeling about what she would find when she arrived. The smell of burning filled her senses, choking her lungs and stinging her eyes. The sand blurred past her, wavery through the heat and tears.

Stumbling from the speeder as it stopped, she walked toward the smouldering debris that had been her home. Her legs carried her forward automatically until she saw the two bodies, one half covering the other as if to protect, and her knees gave way beneath her. Tears caught in her throat, choking her and she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her middle.

* * *

Tearing his gaze away from the shiny black droid, Alaric focused on his captor. Darth Vader—the Emperor's enforcer and right hand—was famous, of course, famous for brutality, and Alaric's heart pounded against the inside of his ribs as if trying to escape. He clenched his fists, trying to keep his breathing even.

A black-gloved hand waved the troopers back into the hall, and Vader closed the door upon them. Then Vader pushed the hood back, and Alaric's mouth fell open. His breath caught in his throat.

Darth Vader was a woman.

* * *

Lucia steered the speeder with numb fingers, pulling up to where Ben waited for her. He had piled the small bodies of the Jawas and lit them afire, and the thick black smoke billowed up into the clear blue sky, floating away on the desert winds. She slowly got out of the speeder, stumbling a little as her feet touched the sand, then took a few steps toward Ben, her movements stiff and mechanical. She couldn't breathe.

He watched her come, his eyes shining with compassion. "There's nothing you could have done, Lucia, had you been there. You'd have been killed, too."

She met his eyes, and her tears spilled over. Shaking her head, she began to turn away, but he crossed the space between them and took her in his arms, holding her close as her body shook with sobs. "I'm sorry," she managed when she was finally able to speak again.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he said gently.

She pulled back, ineffectually wiping her face with her sleeves. "I want to come with you to Alderaan. I want to learn to be a Jedi like my mother."

* * *

Darth Vader was beautiful, yet terrifying. Amber eyes pierced straight through Alaric, as if seeing into his soul. Her face was unlined, yet a weight of years and experiences were reflected in those unsettling eyes. He took an involuntary step backward.

"You will tell me the location of the Rebel base." Vader's voice was compelling, and Alaric felt a strong urge to do what she said.

He shook his head, gritting his teeth. He had heard that Vader had mystical powers, like the Jedi used to have, but had never before seen them in action. "No," he said. "I won't."

Surprise and frustration flickered in her eyes. "I would rather not have to use the droid." She laid a black-gloved hand on the dark mirrored surface. "But the choice is yours."

He swallowed hard, staring at the reflections in the droid's shiny exterior. "You'll have to use the droid," he said, proud of the way his voice didn't waver.

There was something like respect in those strange eyes as she bent her head slightly in acknowledgement. She pressed a switch on the droid, and it came to life.

* * *

Lucia couldn't help staring at the crowded streets of Mos Eisley. It seemed incredible that the crowds of people and vehicles were able to maneuver without crashing into each other. Ben piloted the speeder, clearly comfortable with the throng. Their slow pace allowed Lucia to gape at everything, the strange sights taking her mind off what had happened to her aunt and uncle.

Two stormtroopers stepped into the street and stopped them, and Lucia's stomach fell. The droids were clearly visible in the back seat. "How long have you had these droids?" one of the troopers demanded.

Her heart pounding, she lied, "About three or four seasons."

"They're for sale if you want them," Ben said calmly, and she wished she had his unflappability. Maybe that was a Jedi thing, and she could learn it.

The trooper ignored Ben. "Let me see your identification."

She dug in her pocket, her hands shaking. Her papers would connect her to Owen Lars and they already knew he was the one who had bought the droids from the Jawas, but she couldn't refuse to show it to them—that would definitely get them arrested.

"You don't need to see her identification." Ben's voice was firm and compelling. Lucia sensed a power behind it that took her breath away.

"We don't need to see her identification." The trooper's voice was flat, almost mechanical, as he repeated Ben's words.

"These are not the droids you're looking for," Ben continued in the same tone.

"These are not the droids we're looking for," the trooper repeated.

"We can go about our business," Ben said.

"You can go about your business," the trooper replied, stepping back and waving them on.

Ben nodded. "Thank you," he said, his voice back to normal.

Lucia stared at him in awe as he pulled the speeder back into traffic. Being a Jedi definitely came in handy.

As if he could read her thoughts—and maybe he could—Ben said, "The Force can have a strong influence on the weak-minded."

* * *

Ben parked the speeder outside a rundown blockhouse cantina on the outskirts of the spaceport, and Lucia eyed the building dubiously as she stepped onto the pavement. Ben led the way toward the door, his stride confident. "Watch your step," he said over his shoulder. "This place can be a little rough."

Squinting through the smoke, Lucia stared open-mouthed at the myriad species seated at the bar and in the booths and tables scattered about inside. She had never even heard of half of them. A group of big-eyed bald creatures played upbeat music on a collection of instruments on a stage in the corner, but no one was paying attention.

Ben steered Lucia to an empty table. "Wait here," he said, and headed for the bar.

She watched as he spoke to a tall furry creature wearing two bandoliers crossed over his chest. A few minutes later, the two of them turned and came toward her table. "This is Chewbacca," Ben said. "He's first mate on a ship that might suit our needs."

Chewbacca said something in a harsh, guttural language, and led the way to a corner booth. A woman watched them from where she sprawled in the bench, her long brown hair falling over her shoulders and into her eyes. She was wearing military-style pants tucked into knee-high leather boots and a loose white shirt with an open black vest over top. She even had a blaster in a holster strapped to her thigh—she looked like a pirate from a holovid.

Chewbacca spoke to her, and she looked Ben and Lucia up and down, a small smile that was almost a sneer on her lips. "I'm Hanna Solo, Captain of the Millennium Falcon. Chewie tells me you're looking for passage to the Alderaan system."

"Yes, indeed." Ben offered a friendly smile. "If it's a fast ship."

She sat up straighter, her smile slipping. "You've never heard of the Millennium Falcon?"

Ben shook his head as they sat down. "Should I have?"

"It's the ship that made the Kessel run in less than twelve parsecs!" she declared in a tone of injured pride.

"Is that so?" Ben murmured noncommittally. Lucia hid a smile.

"I've outrun Imperial starships—not the local bulk-cruisers, mind you—I'm talking about the big Corellian ships." Hanna gave Ben a look of disdain. "She's fast enough for you, old man. What's the cargo?"

"Only passengers." Ben gestured toward Lucia. "Myself, the girl, two droids... and no questions asked."

Hanna's sharp brown eyes narrowed. "What is it—some local trouble?"

Ben smiled and shook his head. "Let's just say we'd like to avoid any Imperial entanglements."

"Well, that's the trick, isn't it?" She leaned back again, hooking one booted foot up over her other knee. "And it's going to cost you something extra. Ten thousand in advance."

"Ten thousand!" Lucia burst out, unable to help herself. "We could almost buy our own ship for that!"

Hanna turned her amused gaze on Lucia. "But who's going to fly it, kid? You?"

Stung, Lucia shot back, "I could!" She turned to Ben, but he shook his head at her.

"We don't have that much with us," Ben told Hanna, "but we could pay you two thousand now, plus fifteen when we reach Alderaan."

"Huh." The captain rubbed her chin thoughtfully, exchanging glances with Chewbacca across the table. Then she nodded. "Okay. You've got yourselves a ship. We'll leave as soon as you're ready. Docking bay ninety-four."

* * *

_A/N: For a glimpse into Darth Vader's head during the interrogation scene, stay tuned for the bonus scene, A Spark of Hope (will be posted under "Deleted Scenes and Bonus Materials."_


	6. A Fiery Storm

Hanna leaned back in the booth and watched her two new passengers leave. "Seventeen thousand!" she said to Chewie, grinning. "They must be really desperate."

Chewie agreed, then rose from the table, announcing that he was going to go get the ship ready for departure. Hanna nodded, distracted by the thought of all that money. This could really save her neck.

Tired of the constant noise—and smell—of the cantina, she stood up to leave, but stopped when something that felt like a blaster barrel poked her in the side. Twisting her head around, she spotted someone she had hoped never to see again. And there _was _a blaster barrel in her ribs.

"Going somewhere, Solo?" the green-skinned alien asked her, pushing her back toward the table with his pistol.

"Yes, Greedo," she said casually, slowly sitting back down, and watching him closely. "As a matter of fact, I was just going to see your boss. Tell Jabba that I've got his money."

The Rodian slid into the booth across the table from Hanna, keeping his pistol trained on her. "It's too late. You should have paid him when you had the chance. Jabba's put a price on your head—so large that every bounty hunter in the galaxy will be looking for you. I'm lucky I found you first."

She leaned back, her posture relaxed, careless. "But this time I have the money." She surreptitiously slid her right hand under the table toward her thigh holster, playing with the hair over her ear with her other hand.

"If you give it to me, I might forget I found you," Greedo offered.

"I don't have it with me." She curled her fingers around her blaster's grip. "Tell Jabba—"

Greedo shook his head in disgust. "Jabba's through with you. He has no time for smugglers who drop their shipments at the first sign of an Imperial cruiser."

She rolled her eyes, easing her pistol from the holster. "Even I get boarded sometimes. Do you think I had a choice?"

"You can tell that to Jabba." Greedo snickered, oblivious to the threat under the table. "He may only take your ship."

Her muscles tensed involuntarily at the threat. "Over my dead body," she growled, sitting up straight, and slapping her free hand palm down on the table, while bracing her pistol against her leg, and aiming it by feel with the other hand.

A grin spread across Greedo's face, and he leaned forward, waving his blaster under her nose. "You'll make a very pretty corpse. I've been looking forward to this for a long time."

"I'll bet you have." She pulled the trigger, and the bounty hunter died with a look of surprise frozen on his face. He never had been very good at his job. Standing, she ran her eyes over the other patrons, who quickly returned to whatever they had been doing, not wanting to get involved. Tossing some coins at the bartender, she said, "Sorry about the mess."

* * *

Alaric lay on the cot in his cell, his arm across his face, trying to puzzle out what had happened. Vader had turned the interrogation droid on, but then she had stopped it, stared at him for several minutes, and left, taking the droid with her. If this was meant to frighten him further before she returned to interrogate him, it made little sense. He was less afraid now; he was only confused.

The door slid open, and he sat up. Vader entered, her hood once again masking her face. The droid was nowhere in sight. Two stormtroopers followed her into the room, weapons at the ready.

"Get up," Vader said, her voice flat, yet with an undercurrent of some emotion Alaric couldn't quite put his finger on. It almost sounded like… regret?

He stood up and allowed himself to be herded from the cell, still trying to puzzle out Vader's bizarre behaviour.

* * *

Hanna sighed at the sight that greeted her in the docking bay. Jabba the Hutt made his slow way toward the Falcon, his huge bulk dwarfing the motley crew of pirates and hired guns with him. She spotted Chewie watching from the shadows behind the ship, and signaled him to join her.

Jabba faced the Falcon's entrance. "Come on out, Solo!" he called, the Huttese syllables harsh on Hanna's ears.

Hanna hooked her thumbs through her belt loops, and sauntered across the docking bay behind Jabba and his minions who were staring at the ship, oblivious to her entrance. Chewie joined her, looming over even the Hutt. "I've been waiting for you, Jabba," she said calmly in Basic, refusing to afford him the respect of speaking his language. It took him several minutes to turn his bulk toward her, and Hanna waited patiently. "I'm not the type to run," she continued when he finally faced her.

"Hanna, my girl." Jabba's voice dripped nauseating sweetness. "Why haven't you paid me? And why did you have to fry poor Greedo?"

She narrowed her eyes, not at all fooled by his friendly act. "You sent Greedo to kill me."

Jabba's huge mouth fell open in offended surprise. "You're the best smuggler in the business. You're too valuable to fry. He was only relaying my concern at your delays. He wasn't going to blast you."

Hanna pursed her lips slightly, and shrugged. "I think he thought he was. Next time don't send one of those twerps. If you've got something to say to me, come see me yourself."

"If only you hadn't had to dump that shipment of spice… you understand I just can't make an exception. Where would I be if every pilot who smuggled for me dumped their shipments at the first sign of an Imperial starship?" He shook his head, his huge eyes shining with false sincerity. "It's not good business."

Hanna shook her head at the Hutt's posturing. "It's even worse business to die, Jabba. The shipment was lost either way. I've got a charter now, though, and I can pay you back, plus a little extra. I just need some more time."

Jabba eyed her speculatively, then waved at his toadies. "Put your blasters away." He slid forward and leaned in toward Hanna, his foul breath choking her. "I'm only doing this because you're the best and I need you. So—for an extra, say, twenty percent?—I'll give you a little more time… but this is it." His voice lost all semblance of friendliness. "If you disappoint me again, I'll put a price on your head so large you won't be able to go near a civilized system for the rest of your short life."

She smiled into his huge, disgusting face, trying not to breathe very deeply. "Jabba, I'll pay you because it's my pleasure."

* * *

Lucia's eyes widened as she followed Ben into docking bay 94. The ship docked there looked like it had been cobbled together from bits and pieces of junk. "_That's_ the ship?"

Captain Solo appeared on the landing ramp, walking down to greet them. "She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts, kid. I've added some special modifications myself." Her voice was slightly defensive, and Lucia's face heated. She had forgotten how protective of their vessels captains could be. "We're a little rushed," Solo continued, "so if you'll hurry aboard we'll get out of here."

As she entered the ship just ahead of the captain, Lucia heard the unmistakable sound of blaster fire. Solo shoved her out of the way, and dropped to one knee, firing back out the door. Lucia scrambled back as Solo hit the release and the ramp slammed shut.

"Chewie, get us out of here!" Solo shouted, and the ship began to shake, the whine of the engines setting Lucia's teeth on edge. With a lurch that knocked her against the bulkhead, they were in the air and the shaking stopped. Solo pushed past Lucia and threw herself into the pilot's seat next to Chewbacca, her fingers dancing over the console. "It looks like an Imperial cruiser. Angle the deflector shield while I make the calculations for the jump to light speed."

Ben helped Lucia to her feet, and they followed the captain, standing behind the pilot's chairs. The large window at the front displayed a vast expanse of stars broken by the darting forms of Imperial fighters.

"Stay sharp!" Solo barked. "There are two more coming in—they're going to try to cut us off."

"Why don't you outrun them?" Lucia asked, watching the fighters maneuver. "I thought you said this thing was fast."

Solo glared over her shoulder. "Watch your mouth, kid, or you're going to find yourself floating home. We'll be safe enough once we make the jump to hyperspace." The stars outside blurred and lengthened. "There we go!" Solo leaned back in her seat, and let out a relieved sigh. "Make yourselves comfortable. We'll be there soon enough."

* * *

Alaric's eyes skipped over the Imperial officers, his gaze drawn to the huge viewscreen that dominated the room. He would know that planet anywhere. Tearing his eyes away from the view of his home, he focused on the ranking officer. "Governor Tarkin." He allowed his disdain for the man to colour his voice. "I should have expected to find you holding Vader's leash." He thought he sensed Vader tense behind him at the implication. Good.

Tarkin turned to face him, hands clasped loosely behind his back. "Charming to the last. You don't know how hard I found it signing the order to terminate your life."

Alaric set his chin, refusing to show any fear. "I'm surprised you had the courage to take the responsibility yourself."

Tarkin smiled, his lips tight. "Prince Alaric, before your execution I would like you to be my guest at a ceremony that will make this battle station operational. No star system will dare oppose the Emperor now."

Alaric shook his head at the man's arrogance. "The more you tighten your grip, Tarkin, the more star systems will slip through your fingers."

"Not after we demonstrate the power of this station," Tarkin replied, his eyes cold. "In a way, you have determined the choice of the planet that'll be destroyed first." He turned to face the viewscreen, and Alaric's heart stopped. "Since you are reluctant to provide us with the location of the Rebel base, I have chosen to test this station's destructive power… on your home planet of Alderaan."

"No!" Alaric took a step forward, and Vader grabbed his arm, holding him back. He stared at the small green planet on the screen, his chest tightening. "Alderaan is peaceful. We have no weapons. You can't possibly—"

"You would prefer another target?" Tarkin asked. "A military target? Then name the system!"

The image on the screen blurred as Alaric's eyes filled with tears. Alderaan: his home. His parents were down there, unaware of the menace that lurked overhead. Yet if he gave away the location of the Alliance's base, so many others would die. No matter what he did, he lost.

"I grow tired of asking this," Tarkin said. "So it'll be the last time. Where is the Rebel base?"

"Dantooine," Alaric said softly. He bowed his head, and his voice broke. "They're on Dantooine."

"You see, Lord Vader?" Tarkin gloated. "He can be reasonable." He turned to the Admiral who was seated at the control panel. "Continue with the operation. You may fire when ready."

Alaric's head snapped up, his breath lodged in his chest. "_What?_"

Tarkin turned his smug, superior smile on him. "You're far too trusting. Dantooine is too remote to make an effective demonstration. But don't worry. We will deal with your Rebel friends soon enough."

"No!" Alaric wrenched his arm free, and took a step toward Tarkin, but black-gloved hands fell on his shoulders, pulling him back and holding him tightly.

He watched in horror as a huge beam of cohesive light shot forth from the battlestation and struck Alderaan, blasting it into tiny fragments. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest, and he sagged in Vader's grip, hot tears springing to his eyes.

Alderaan was the only home he'd ever known. His father had brought him there as a baby, and he knew nothing of his birth parents.

He remembered the warmth of the sun on his face, the touch of his mother's hand, the sound of his father's voice, and he clenched his fists, a fiery storm of hatred unfurling in his soul, vowing revenge. He pushed away from Vader's support, but her hands did not leave his shoulders and, in some strange way, he found a comfort and strength in her touch.


	7. Simple Tricks and Nonsense

Lucia gripped her mother's lightsaber—now her lightsaber—her eyes following the small seeker droid Ben had programmed to fire gentle shocks that she was meant to block. Small stings all over her hands and face attested to how well that was going. She raised her blade as the droid spun toward her again, and the universe tilted around her. A rushing in her ears and distant sense of loss filled her awareness, and she barely felt the droid leave another sting on the back of her hand.

Shaking her head to clear it, she saw Ben leaning against the wall for support. He was paler than the whitest sands on Tatooine, his eyes focused on something beyond his surroundings. "What's wrong?" she asked, her voice strained.

He shook his head slowly, still staring into nothingness. "I felt a great disturbance in the Force… as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror... and were silenced." He turned his head toward her, his gaze gradually coming back into focus. "I fear something terrible has happened."

The door slid open, and Captain Solo stepped through, pulling her hair out of her face and tying it at the back of her head. "Well, you can forget your troubles with those Imperial slugs. I told you I'd outrun 'em."

Lucia's fingers tightened on her lightsaber hilt. Was that what she had felt—a 'great disturbance in the Force'? Only the Empire could have done something on such a scale.

"Don't everyone thank me at once," Solo said sarcastically. When no one responded, she continued, "Anyway, we should be at Alderaan about oh-two-hundred hours."

Ben nodded. The colour had returned to his face, and he nodded toward Lucia. "We have time for a few more exercises."

Pushing the memory of pain and loss to the back of her mind, she turned back to the droid. And yelped when it stung her cheek.

"Try to see where the remote will be; not where it is. The Force will guide you," Ben told her.

She eyed the droid warily. "You mean it controls your actions?" That didn't sound pleasant.

"Partially," Ben allowed. "But it also obeys your commands."

Somehow, that made sense to her. She faced the droid, trying to feel what Ben was talking about. She had always had a sense of the life around her in a way that others didn't seem to have. But she had no idea how she was supposed to feel the Force flowing through her.

The droid feinted to her right, then darted left and around behind her. A sharp pain in the back of her left leg dropped her to one knee.

Captain Solo snorted a laugh, folding her arms under her breasts. "Hokey religions and ancient weapons are no match for a good blaster at your side."

Lucia raised an eyebrow at the captain. "I take it you don't believe in the Force?"

Solo shook her head and sighed, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. "Kid, I've flown from one side of this galaxy to the other. I've seen a lot of strange stuff, but I've never seen anything to make me believe there's one all-powerful 'force' controlling everything." She gazed challengingly at Ben. "There's no mystical energy field that controls _my _destiny. It's all a lot of simple tricks and nonsense."

Ben just smiled and stood up, hefting a large helmet which he handed to Lucia. "Put this on and try it again."

Lucia eyed the helmet, both eyebrows raised.

Ben gently placed it on her head, lowering the blast shield, effectively blinding her. "This time, let go your conscious self and act on instinct."

Lucia stood very still, her grip on her saber and Ben's voice her only connections with the world around her. "I can't even see. How am I supposed to fight?"

"Your eyes can deceive you. Don't trust them."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Lucia waited for something to happen. A shot to her upper arm startled a yelp out of her and she rubbed the sore spot with her free hand. She could hear Solo snickering at her. This was ridiculous.

"Stretch out with your feelings," Ben said, his voice calm.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and tried to visualize the threat. As if in a dream, she lifted the saber to block, and felt the droid's next bolt bounce off the blade.

"You see? You can do it." She could hear the smile in Ben's voice, could almost feel his pride.

Solo snorted again. "I call it luck."

Lucia pulled off the helmet as Ben replied, "In my experience, there's no such thing as luck."

"Look, good against remotes is one thing. Good against the living?" Solo shook her head. "That's something else." She turned toward the cockpit. "Looks like we're coming up on Alderaan."

Lucia handed the helmet to Ben as Captain Solo left. "I did feel something. I could almost see the remote."

His smile lit up his face. "That's good. You have taken your first step into a larger world."

* * *

Coming out of hyperspace was nothing like entering it. The ship shuddered, rocking like a funnel flower petal in a windstorm. Ben's expression told Lucia this was not normal, and she followed him into the cockpit where Captain Solo and Chewbacca were busy with the controls, steering the ship through a cloud of flying rocks.

"What's going on?" Lucia caught herself against the wall as the ship lurched around one of the larger chunks of debris.

Solo was examining a readout. She hit the edge of the console with her fist, letting out a frustrated growl. "Our position is correct." She waved her hand at the window. "But no Alderaan!"

Ben stepped forward, his eyes fixed on the view through the window. "Destroyed…" he whispered.

"The entire starfleet couldn't destroy a whole planet," Solo insisted, pulling the tie out of her hair, then shoving it into a knot at the back of her neck. "It'd take a thousand ships with more firepower than I've—" She broke off and leaned forward as an alarm sounded on her control board. "There's another ship coming in."

"An Imperial fighter," Ben said quietly.

"There aren't any bases around here," Solo said, frowning as the tiny TIE fighter raced past the window. "Where did it come from?"

Lucia bit her lip. "If they identify us, we're in big trouble."

"Not if I can help it," Solo said firmly. "Chewie, jam its transmissions." She leaned forward, her hands dancing over the controls, sending the Falcon after the fleeing TIE.

"A fighter that size couldn't get this deep into space on its own." Ben's voice was thoughtful.

"It must have gotten lost or something," Lucia replied. The fighter was making a run for a bright spot in the sky, racing for his life as they gained on him. "It's headed for that small moon."

Solo smiled a grim smile. "I think I can get him before he gets there." The bright spot grew into a perfectly spherical shape, reflecting the light from the stars all around.

"That's no moon," Ben said. "It's a space station."

"It's too big to be a space station," Solo replied, but her voice was unsure, fear creeping into her tone.

Lucia just stared. She had a very bad feeling about this.

"Full reverse!" Solo shouted. "Chewie, lock in the auxiliary power!" The engines roared, but they kept moving forward. "We're caught in a kriffing tractor beam. We have to shut down the engines." She stood up, running her fingers through her hair, leaving a few strands loose of the tie. "But they're not going to get me without a fight."

Ben laid a hand on the captain's shoulder. "You can't win. But there are alternatives to fighting."

* * *

Hanna crouched in the dark, tight space under the floorboards, mashed up against Chewie on one side and the wide-eyed farmgirl on the other. She hardly dared to breathe as she listened to the stormtroopers overhead. When the sounds finally faded away, she pushed up, throwing the panel overhead aside and taking a deep breath in relief.

"It's lucky you had these compartments," Lucia said, standing up next to her.

"I use them for smuggling." Hanna shook her head. "I never thought I'd be smuggling myself in them." She vaulted out of the hole in the floor. The Falcon's landing ramp was open, displaying a view of the interior of a gigantic docking bay. She blew out a breath in frustration. "This is ridiculous. Even if I could take off, I'd never get past the tractor beam."

"Leave that to me," the old man said, coming up to stand next to her.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Damn fool. I knew you were going to say that." He probably figured he could use the 'Force' to turn off the beam, or some such nonsense.

He merely smiled at her. "We'll need to get into their computer."

* * *

Rolling over a couple of stormtroopers for their armour had been easier than Hanna had expected it to be. She eyed Kenobi suspiciously, wondering if the old man had used some of that hocus pocus on them. He was leaning over the computer terminal, examining a map of the space station. She shook her head at herself. He was just a crazy old man. None of that claptrap was real.

Lucia's golden protocol droid spoke up, translating for the astromech who had plugged in to access the computer directly. "He says he's found the main computer to power the tractor beam that's holding the ship here. He'll try to make the precise location appear on the monitor."

Hanna watched over Kenobi's shoulder as the screen flickered, displaying several parts of the map in quick succession.

"The tractor beam is coupled to the main reactor in this location," the golden droid continued, indicating a point on the monitor. "A power loss at the terminal will allow the ship to leave."

Kenobi rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "I don't think you two can help. I must go alone."

Hanna rocked back on her heels, nodding agreeably. "Whatever you say. I've done more than I bargained for on this trip already."

Predictably, Lucia wasn't so willing to stay behind. "I want to go with you," she complained.

Hanna rolled her eyes. You'd almost think the old man was the girl's father, with how attached to him she was, despite that they looked nothing alike.

"Be patient, Lucia." Kenobi rested his hands on the kid's shoulders. "Your destiny lies along a different path than mine. The Force will be with you… always."

That had sounded rather final to Hanna's ears. She frowned at the old man, but he didn't so much as glance in her direction as he turned and walked away.

* * *

Lucia watched Ben leave, her throat tight, a sinking feeling in her stomach. She had a sudden urge to run after him, to stop him, but a stream of whistles and beeps from Artoo turned her head around. He was still connected to the computer, but was rocking back and forth in excitement, in danger of breaking something.

"What is it?" she asked, bending to peer at the screen.

"I'm afraid I'm not quite sure, miss," Threepio replied. "He says 'I found him', and keeps repeating, 'He's here'."

Lucia straightened up, frowning at Threepio. "Who has he found?"

The golden droid actually seemed startled at the astromech's reply, and when he spoke, his voice was higher. "Prince Alaric."

Prince Alaric. That was the boy from the hologram, who had seemed so familiar! "He's here?"

"A prince?" Captain Solo asked, leaning over to look at the screen.

"Level five. Detention block A-23," the protocol droid continued. "I'm afraid he's scheduled to be terminated."

Lucia's stomach fell. "No! We have to do something."

"Now, look, don't get any funny ideas," Solo interjected. "The old man wants us to wait right here."

"Ben didn't know he was here." Lucia laid her hand on Artoo's head. "Can you find a way into the detention block?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Solo declared, crossing her arms over her chest.

Lucia turned around and glared at the captain. "They're going to execute him!"

Solo raised her eyebrows in a 'so what?' expression. "Better him than me."

Lucia clenched her fists, disgusted with Solo's attitude. Did she really care about nobody but herself? Wait. She cared about money. "He's rich." A prince would have to be rich, right?

Solo's arms loosened slightly. "Rich?"

"Yes." Lucia pushed the advantage. "Listen, if you were to rescue him, the reward would be…" She paused, trying to think of a suitable amount, but gave up. "Well, more wealth than you can imagine."

Solo unfolded her arms. "I can imagine a lot." They glared at each other for a minute, then Solo looked away, shaking her head. "All right, kid. But you'd better be right about this."


	8. An Incredible Smell

The doors slid open and Lucia entered the cellblock with Captain Solo—Chewbacca walked between them, hands bound. The armour they had stolen from the stormtroopers wouldn't fit his tall frame.

A uniformed officer stopped them just inside the room. "Where are you taking this… thing?" He curled his lip, eyeing the wookiee.

An ominous rumble sounded in Chewbacca's throat. Lucia quickly said, "Prisoner transfer from block 1138."

The officer grimaced. "I wasn't notified. I'll have to clear it." He turned on his heel and strode to a console.

Captain Solo leaned forward and released one of Chewbacca's hands. With a roar, the wookiee grabbed Solo's blaster rifle. "Look out!" she shouted. "He's loose!"

Lucia drew her pistol, and began to fire. Solo joined her, and they took out the cameras, the gate controls, and the officers. Solo went to the console. "He's in cell 21-87. You go get him. I'll hold them here."

* * *

Alaric had finally fallen asleep, exhausted. He had refused to allow the Imperials to see his grief, so had not allowed himself to weep, instead focusing on his hatred for Tarkin and the satisfaction that he had given them the wrong information after all—when they arrived at Dantooine, they would find only an abandoned base that the Alliance no longer used.

Darth Vader had escorted him back to his cell, a silent presence at his side. As he had stepped into the small space, Vader had paused and seemed almost about to say something, but then changed her mind, and left him alone with his pain. He had barely noticed though, focused as he was on his loss.

A burst of fire from a blaster pistol jerked him awake, and he sat up, frowning at the stormtrooper standing in the smoking hole where the door should be. There was something strange about the trooper, as if the armour didn't quite fit correctly; his stance was not military; and there was no threat about him.

The silence had stretched out in awkwardness, and he was starting to wonder what was wrong with the trooper. Retreating behind the aggressiveness that was his shield, he asked, "Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?"

"What? Oh, the uniform." The trooper pulled off the helmet, and for the second time since his capture, Alaric was shocked to see a female. Golden hair framed the tanned face of a girl about his age or younger, and blue eyes blinked at him in bemusement. "I'm Lucia Skywalker, and I'm here to rescue you," she said without a hint of irony.

Alaric gaped at the girl. "You're what?" he demanded.

"I'm here to rescue you," she repeated, her tone indicating he was a little slow. "I've got your R2 unit. I'm here with Ben Kenobi."

That name brought Alaric to his feet. "Ben Kenobi! Where is he? Is he here?"

"Yes," Lucia replied. "Come on!"

He followed her into the hall, but they were brought up short by a huge wookiee and a dark-haired woman dressed as a pirate running toward them. "Can't get out that way," she told them, her brown eyes sparkling—she appeared to be enjoying this.

Alaric shook his head in disgust. "Looks like you managed to cut off our only escape route."

Those intense brown eyes met his, and he forgot to breathe. "Maybe you'd like it back in your cell, Your Highness," she snapped.

He tore his gaze away, biting back an angry retort. There was no time for this. "This is some rescue. When you came in here, didn't you have a plan for getting out?"

She shrugged and pointed at Lucia. "She's the brains, m'lord."

Alaric winced at the title, and turned a disbelieving gaze on the girl, who bit her lip, looking sheepish. "Oh, for the love of…" He grabbed Lucia's gun and blasted the opening of the garbage chute.

"What the hell are you doing?" the pirate demanded.

"Somebody has to save our skins." He gestured with the gun. "Get in, hero."

* * *

Hanna stumbled out of the narrow chute behind Chewie and into kneedeep slop. This was really not good for her clothes. She was going to have to burn everything she was wearing and buy new. Lucia was struggling with a hatchway on the other side of the small room, and having no luck opening it.

The prince slid out of the chute and gracefully got to his feet, serenely unruffled despite his surroundings. Royalty! Ugh. "The garbage chute was a really _wonderful _idea," she said, drawing her blaster pistol. "What an incredible smell you've discovered, Your Worship." She waved her pistol at Lucia. "Get away from there."

"No! Wait!" Lucia shouted.

Ignoring her, Hanna fired at the hatch. The bolt bounced off, ricocheting wildly around the room, sending them diving for cover. Hanna slowly stood up, ineffectively brushing at the sticky wet stuff that now decorated her.

"I already tried that!" Lucia rose to her feet next to Hanna. "It's magnetically sealed."

"Put that thing away!" Covered in garbage, Prince Alaric was no longer so poised, and Hanna had to bite back a grin. "You're going to get us all killed!"

"Absolutely, Your Worship," she said sweetly, smiling as she returned her pistol to its thigh holster. "You know, it's not going to take them long to figure out what happened to us."

The prince took a deep breath. "It could be worse."

A rumble shook the room, rattling Hanna's teeth. "It's worse."

"The walls are moving!" Lucia pulled out her comlink. "Threepio! Come in Threepio!"

Hanna dove for a long metal pole she spotted half-buried in a nearby pile. "Get something to brace it!"

To his credit, Prince Alaric didn't argue. But the poles weren't strong enough. The walls slowly but surely slid toward each other, bending the poles, and pushing the garbage toward the centre of the room. Hanna met the prince's eyes, seeing her own terror reflected there. Trying to lessen the tension, she quipped, "One thing's for sure: we'll all be a lot thinner."

Alaric only shook his head, but she thought she saw a flicker of amusement cross his face. They stood against the walls, facing each other, and they were so close now, she could feel his body heat. In another minute, they would be flattened.

A tinny voice sounded from Lucia's comlink: "Are you there, miss?"

"Threepio!" she shouted. The droid began to say something else, but she overrode him: "Shut up and listen to me! Shut down all garbage mashers on the detention level! Do you copy?"

The walls continued to creep together for another few seconds, then ground to a stop. They stood frozen for a moment, then Lucia whooped and threw her arms around Hanna, then Chewie. Caught up in the overwhelming relief, Hanna grinned until her face hurt.

Lucia hugged Alaric, who looked a little stunned, then she scrambled back to the hatch. "Threepio, open the pressure maintenance hatch on unit number… where are we?"


End file.
